Hi fellow bloggers! What the fuck is going on? I haven’t blogged in awhile. It’s a Saturday night and I’m home alone because my husband is on a business trip. He’s been gone since Tuesday early morning. He won’t be back until next Wednesday. That’s a lot of one on one time with my child. And my demons. Can I just say to the other mothers who read this blog, sometimes I love my baby girl with a ferocity that scares me. I want to inhale her, kiss her to death, protect her with such a primal instinct I don’t even know where it comes from. BUT at the same time, starting at about 4:00 pm. the countdown begins for bedtime. Sometimes and hour with her is like stairmaster time. It just hangs there in space taunting me with the microwave clock, “ha ha, you thought an hour had passed by but it’s only been 15 minutes! HA.”
Okay, on to more important issues. Yesterday I was in the gym and I was confronted with so much nudity that I’m still feeling a little scarred. Like, I get it. You’re in a women’s locker room so you think to yourself “hey, we’re all girls here. Let’s just be naked and go about all of our normal activities.” But here’s the thing. I DON’T KNOW YOU. I don’t want to see your pubic hair just wandering around fishing something out of your locker. Cause that’s all you become to me is a patch of pubic hair. I know this is even a hack subject at this point and a lot of us feel this way. But let’s delve a bit deeper shall we? Is this some sort of defiance? Does the 60 year old woman who stands on the scale for 15 minutes just trying to get her exact weight in ounces want me to look away or want me to check her out in all her glory? I don’t know the answer but I don’t like it. Honestly, I’m not uncomfortable with my body. I don’t mind being naked in front of my friends if I’m say, trying on a bra or changing into a swim suit. You know, normal reasons for getting naked but just parading around? No.
Another gym thing is people with their cell phones. Like you can’t go 30 minutes on the precor machine without rolling calls? Get your shit together. Maybe you need a personal assistant. I don’t know but stop taking phone calls. It bothers me. And one more thing. Men who crazily grunt as they lift weights. “Hey, note to you: the weights are too heavy. Go a little lighter and you won’t have to sound like you’re taking a dump.”
I guess in retrospect, this wasn’t self reflection as much as harsh judgement about other people. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.